


The New Prospect

by Lauren315



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Action/Adventure, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-03-31 10:52:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3975376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauren315/pseuds/Lauren315
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the disappearance of her mother (who is also her mentor), Marie's hopes of becoming a fully-fledged Assassin are seemingly diminished. However, when she has a chance encounter with Connor, her pursuit of those responsible for her mother's disappearance and preventing the goal of true freedom in the Colonies - the Templars - truly begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The wind whispered through the trees around me as I tried to focus my aim at the target carved on the tree ahead. I readied my bow, took a deep breath, and focused. I released the arrow and watched it fire through the air, striking the bark a few centimetres wide of the cross. I cursed under my breath while reloading and was about to try again, only to be disrupted by the sound of disturbed trees behind me.   
I noticed a robust figure free running through the trees with remarkable finesse. It was coming towards me.  
As soon as he saw me, he stopped in his tracks and then jumped down to the forest floor. He stood tall, with tanned skin, and wore the typical Assassins’ robes along with worn Mohawk trousers.  
We stared at each other in silence for a moment, until I realised who he was.  
“Haven’t I seen you before?” I asked. “You knew my mother, didn’t you? Élisabeth Hale?”  
“Yes, I knew her,” He replied. His voice was mellow, in complete contrast to his intimidating appearance. “You must be Marie-Charlotte,”  
“Just call me Marie… and you are?”  
“Connor,”  
“Yes, that’s right. I remember you visited my mother around a year ago.”  
He must have known that she died a few months ago, because he said, “I did. I had only spoken to her a few times, but she seemed a brave and compassionate woman, dedicated to the cause.”  
My mother left home on a mission days before she died. I was told she was killed when her group was ambushed by Templars. It was agonising to think about, so I tried not to as much as possible, but I still had countless nights where I would lie awake with horrible thoughts inevitably clawing at my mind. I nodded and smiled weakly before changing the subject.  
“What are you doing here?” I said, putting my bow back over my shoulder.  
“I have been sent to find some bandits who have stolen supplies from freed slaves. I seek to retrieve the supplies, otherwise they will starve.”  
“Would you like some help?”  
“If you know how to fight, then I would be grateful for your assistance.”  
“Of course I do,” I proved my point by lifting my right arm and revealing a hidden blade.  
He raised his eyebrows in amazement. “Your mother told me that she had an apprentice, but I never realised it was her own daughter.”  
I smirked and went on. “Do you know where these bandits are?”  
“A fire I saw nearby had only recently been extinguished. They must not be far from here.”  
After walking for a while, we came out to a path with fresh cart tracks. “We should follow these tracks. This road seems disused, so it’s likely to be from them.”  
“Let’s go, then.”

***

We eventually found the bandits gathered around a campfire, so we approached discreetly, using the dense woodland and darkness to our advantage, in the hope of ambushing them.  
I didn’t intend to stay in the forest this long. I knew Father would be furious at me for being out this late. Ever since Mother died, Father suddenly changed his opinion of me becoming an Assassin, claiming that I’ll just end up suffering the same fate as she did. I know he was just trying to protect me, but at the same time he was depriving me of the only path that gave me true purpose.  
A nudge on my shoulder from Connor brought me back to the task at hand. With his russet eyes he indicated the convoy parked at the far end of the camp, and then whispered “We need to protect the convoy at all costs. The supplies are in there.”  
I nodded.  
“You stay here while I take position over there,” he pointed at the far end of the camp. “Attack as soon as you see me do so.”  
“Okay.”  
I waited, but not for long. Connor leapt out from the darkness, simultaneously stabbing two men from behind. I immediately shot one down while the others swarmed him, managing to pick off another before the remaining four noticed my presence. Two of them rushed towards me, giving me just enough time to sling my bow over my shoulder and engage my hidden blades. The man that reached me first messily attempted to launch at me with his dagger, which I countered fluently with my left blade and instantly drove the other into his chest. Then came a swing of an axe from the left that I leaped back to evade before I charged forward, kicking the stocky man in the crotch at the same time as tearing the axe from his grip and throwing it to the ground, finishing him off with a cut to his throat.  
I looked to the far end of the camp to see that Connor had already ran through the rest.  
“Are you alright?” He asked as he caught my gaze.  
“I’m fine.” I said, but I was honestly shaken from the fight. I had never taken on so many men before, and I was surprised how well I managed to hold my own through it.  
“You have remarkable skill, especially when it comes to archery. Did your mother teach you to shoot like that?”  
“Yes, she did. That and using hidden blades are the only disciplines I’m any good at though. She made me wait until I was old enough to make my own choice on what to do with my life, so I only began training about a year ago.”  
“You made your own choice to start training?”  
“Yes, it was a simple choice to me. After the British were defeated, it soon became clear that freedom and liberty only applied to white men with wealth. It made me determined to fight for everyone else whose rights were denied.”  
“I agree entirely. You would make a great addition to the Brotherhood.”  
“I wish I could be,” I sighed. “But I don’t know of anyone who could help me complete my training…”  
“Which is why I will help you… if that is what you want, of course.”  
I looked at him in pure disbelief. One of the most notable Assassins of the century offering to train me? I must be dreaming. “R-really?” I managed to utter.  
“Of course! You have proved yourself more than capable.”  
“I… don’t know what to say. Thank you!”  
He gave me a slight grin and said, “We should get this cargo back to the camp. I will tell you more on the way.”


	2. Chapter 2

The next few months were spent training intensively, learning how to use weapons including swords, hatchets, and pistols as well as acquiring the skills of free running and stealth. The average day would consist of arriving at the Homestead early in the morning and going free running through the woods, followed by weapons practice before a brief rest. The afternoon would consist of studying and then further weapons practice, so I would usually return home completely exhausted in the evening. Unsurprisingly, my father became increasingly suspicious of my activities, especially when on numerous occasions I returned home covered in cuts and bruises.  
It was a crisp autumn morning when I arrived at the Manor to find Connor in the study, thoroughly examining a tattered old map sprawled across the table.  
“What is that map for?” I asked.  
Connor looked at me blankly for a moment, as if I had interrupted a deep thought. “Boston. We are going there today.”  
“Boston? Why?”  
“I need you to help me with something.” He folded the map and stashed it in his pocket. “Get ready. We will be leaving soon.”

***

The main streets of Boston were vast and buoyant, teeming with all kinds of people from beggars to merchants. Rats scuttled beneath my feet, and dogs wandered past, scavenging anything edible dropped on the ground. I admittedly wasn’t used to the hectic atmosphere of towns, having been brought up in a small village. This was my first time in Boston, and I found myself mesmerised by the huge buildings that towered above the rest, tall and proud. The smell of the sea along with the cackling of seagulls above intrigued me, although the potent stench of fish wasn’t particularly appealing.  
I continued to follow Connor through the main streets, until we took a shortcut through a discrete alley, eventually coming out by a tavern where we stopped.  
“We came all the way to Boston to drink some ale?” I asked jokingly.  
He let out a short laugh. “I’m afraid not. We are meeting a contact.” He walked up to the entrance, took a quick look around the street, and quietly opened the door. “Come on."  
The ambience inside was still, save for the occasional clinking of glasses and soft murmurs of patrons. We went over to a secluded table at the far end of the inn where a man who looked like a cook sat slumped over his casket.  
“Stephane,” Connor addressed the man.  
The man quickly looked up. “Connor! Good to see you!” He exclaimed, his accent strongly French; even more so than Mother’s was. He noticed me and then said, “Is this the apprentice you spoke of?”  
“Yes, this is Marie. Marie, meet Stephane. He is an Assassin and a good friend of mine.”  
“Pleasure to meet you,” I replied.  
“Likewise, my friend. Please, sit!” Said Stephane. “Anyway, I’ve located a man who is a messenger for the Templars. Their meeting place for exchanging letters isn’t far from here. If you follow him during his next job, maybe you’ll get some information on their activities.”  
Seemed simple enough. I’d mastered stealth and eavesdropping during my many months of training down at the Homestead. It was quite fun practicing on the residents; they didn’t get too angry when they caught me the first few times after I’d explained what I was doing.  
“Thank you, Stephane.” Connor replied. “Marie, we should get going.”  
Within a few minutes of leaving the tavern, Connor and I reached the meeting place Stephane informed us about. The area was a small square among the back alleys of Boston, so secluded and noiseless it was eerie.  
“There,” Connor whispered, pointing out the shifty-looking man that appeared. “After he receives the letters, you must follow him to an isolated place and find a way to take them from him. When you are done, return to the tavern as quickly as possible.”  
He was about to turn and leave when I grabbed his arm. “What about you? Where are you going?”  
“You need to do this on your own. Remember everything from your training and believe in yourself and you will be fine.” He assured me, before disappearing around the corner.  
Ok, let’s do this. I peered around the edge of wall to see another man, dressed in smarter clothes, approach the other. Without exchanging any words, the affluent man slipped a letter into the hands of the shifty one, and then they both rushed off in opposite directions.  
I followed the shifty man down a short alleyway that lead to the main street, taking cover behind the walls of buildings each time he looked back over his shoulder and using the crowds of the main street to remain inconspicuous. He eventually entered another deserted alleyway, so I seized the opportunity. I briskly but silently crept up to him, stabbing him from behind with my hidden blade and using my free hand to cover his mouth. Rummaging through his pockets, I came across the letter. A name was written on the back of the envelope: George Clark.  
Before I had the chance to open it, I heard a shout behind me.  
“Oi! What’re you doin’?!” I looked behind to see that a bunch of guards had appeared out of nowhere.  
Shit.  
I stuffed the letter into my trouser pocket and ran for it, scaling the side of the building ahead of me, narrowly missing gunshots from their muskets as I pulled myself up onto the roof. With all the training I received and my muscles pumped with a sudden rush, I navigated the rooftops dexterously, jumping large gaps between rooftops I previously thought impossible to manoeuvre. Once I figured I’d ran far enough to lose them, I leaped from the rooftop into a nearby tree, stopping for a few moments to catch my breath. My long hair had become tousled, strands of fiery red gone rogue from my ponytail. I cursed as I noticed a massive tear had formed in my trousers at the knee. Those were the only pair of trousers I owned that Mother had made for me. After giving my wild hair a quick tidy and making sure the letter was still in pocket, I climbed down and made haste back to the tavern, taking care to avoid any guards roaming the streets.

***

“I’ve got the letter,” I said as I re-joined Connor and Stephane at their table. “I got into a bit of trouble, but nothing I couldn’t handle.” I pulled the letter from my pocket and passed it to Connor.  
“What sort of trouble?” Connor asked.  
“Guards saw me taking the letter from the body. I escaped them, but they’re probably on high alert now.”  
“Let me get you a drink.” Stephane offered.  
“Thanks, Stephane.” I took a seat next to Connor while he read the letter. He appeared increasingly apprehensive as he read through it, his face forming a solemn frown. “What is it?”  
“It is a request for a man named George Clark to gather more slaves for some sort of operation. They are to be held at a fort by the coast in the frontier before they are shipped off somewhere, but it does not say where.”  
“Does it say who it is from?”  
“Only the initials A. D.” He passed the letter back to me. “I know of a fort on the coast. Let us begin there.”  
We finished our drinks and thanked Stephane before setting off back to our horses. While making our way through the crowds, though, a brunette-haired woman barged past me, and I felt something slide out of my pocket. Realising the bulge of my money pouch was gone, I spun round and grabbed her arm.  
“Give it back.” I demanded.  
She froze for a few seconds, her azure eyes wide and fixed on mine. She looked young – her mid-twenties, perhaps – with the exception of the dark shadows under her eyes. Her dress was filthy, and the scarf over her shoulders was tattered.  
“P-please, Miss, I’m so hungry!” She said weakly.  
My anger faded, replaced by sympathy. Before I could say anything, Connor spoke.  
“You live on the streets?” He asked.  
“Yes, and I know I shouldn’t steal. But it’s either that or starve to death.”  
“How long have you been living like this?”  
“About a month,” she sighed. “It’s even worse now that it’s getting cold.”  
“There is a Homestead not far from here where you can easily find some work. Until then, I can pay for you to have a room at the local inn.”   
“R-really? Oh, thank you, Sir! I’ll never forget this.”  
We paid for the woman to take a ship to the Homestead, and then we journeyed back home to prepare for tomorrow’s mission.


	3. Chapter 3

Under the cover of darkness, we approached the fort via the rear entrance which had the fewest guards. Connor advanced towards the entrance whilst I waited from a distance, my bow aimed at the man on the right. I sent an arrow through him the second Connor grabbed the other and held a blade to his throat.  
“Where is George Clark?” Connor demanded.  
“I-in the main building,” He spoke quickly. “His room’s on the first floor… f-first to the left from the stairs.”  
Connor retreated his blade from the man’s neck and placed a handful of coins in his hand. “Take this and never return.”  
“Yes sir.” He said, and ran off into the night.  
We entered, as silent as a cat’s footsteps, concealing ourselves through the bushes, remaining hidden for a few moments in order to observe the movement of the guards and devise the best route to the main building.  
We passed through what seemed to be a holding area, with an enormous number of slaves crammed into two prison cells that stood adjacent to each other. They looked so frail and terrified; it made me more determined than ever to take down that bastard.  
I quietly took down the guard watching over the cells, dumped his body in the scrub, and kept watch as Connor picked the locks.  
“Go out the rear gate and hide in the woods until we return.” Connor told the prisoners as he opened each cell. One of them gave us an appreciative nod before gesturing the others to follow her. Never before had I seen people so relieved.  
Next, we rushed around to the back door of the main building, entering and reaching the top of the stairs without disruption. The place consumed by darkness aside from the moonlight creeping in through the windows, and the only sound emanated from Clark’s room: gentle snoring.  
Perfect. I’ll take him by surprise.  
“You go. I will keep watch.” Connor whispered.  
I nodded and edged open the door, wincing as it let out a slight creak, and slipped through. Clark, a plump and aged man, was fast asleep in a giant canopy bed at the centre of the room. He clearly spared no expense when it came to his own comfort. Typical Templar.  
As I reached his side, I drew my hidden blade, held it to his throat, and used my free hand to slap him across the face.  
“Argh! What the-ʺ Clark struggled, attempting to push my left arm holding the blade away from him, but to no avail. I resisted with little effort, and he soon gave up.  
“Why are you holding slaves?” I demanded.  
“Go to hell.” He retorted.  
I punched his face with my free hand. “Either you tell me now and I’ll make your death quick, or I’ll give you a slow, painful one.” I spoke assertively, increasing the pressure of the blade.  
“I… was given orders that we need them… for something important.”  
“Give me names!”  
“Dubois… Antoine Dubois,” he groaned, blood trickling from his disfigured nose down to his chin. “He ordered me to collect slaves and then transport them to New Orleans.”  
“For what?”  
“I don’t know… I don’t care. I do as they ask and they give me wealth and power in return… that’s all I could ask for.” He managed in between rapid breaths. “Please… let me live… I’ll do anything you want…”  
I shook my head. “Men like you deserve no mercy.”  
I slid my blade across his neck. I rarely took pleasure from killing, but I had to admit, after all that he had done to innocent people just for personal gain, it felt good to end his pathetic life.  
“It’s done. I got some answers.” I said indifferently when I returned to Connor.  
“Good. Let’s get out of here.” He replied.

***

We escorted the liberated slaves to a discreet camp deep within the forest, where we met with fellow Assassins who were to ensure their safety until we found them a proper place to live in peace. It felt so fulfilling to free them from that dreadful fort, but at the same time it saddened me that there were thousands more like them across America still being persecuted and enslaved. Still, saving some is better than saving none, and the more we continue to fight for freedom, the greater the chance of securing a better future for generations to come. It remained frustrating, however, accepting that not everyone can be helped.  
Afterwards, as Connor and I journeyed back through the frontier, I told him everything Clark said to me. He didn’t know why the Templars wanted slaves taken to New Orleans, but he said that he knows an Assassin based there by the name of Aveline. I had heard of many female Assassins, but never met any in person, except for Mother, of course, so I was eager to meet her.  
By the time we reached the Homestead I was so exhausted that I decided to stop at the Manor for the night. I knew Father would be mad at me, but I was too exhausted to care. All I wanted was to be in a warm, cosy bed, and the one in the guest room suited nicely. When I next opened my eyes, I was greeted by the glare of sunlight through the windows along with the alluring smell of soup. I went down to the kitchen to find Connor pouring some soup into a bowl.  
“That smells good,” I remarked.  
“Do you want some?” He asked, placing a loaf of bread on the table.  
I was starving. “Yes please,”  
It tasted amazing. Not only was he a legendary Assassin, but also apparently a very good cook.  
“Thanks, Connor. That was delicious.” I said once I satisfied my hunger.  
“Glad you enjoyed it,” He replied as he finished his. “Now that you are finished, I want to show you something.”  
“What is it?”  
“Follow me.”  
Connor led me down to the basement where he stored weapons and amour. In the centre of the room was a mannequin dressed in a striking navy robes, with a black stripe around the waist and a beaked hood. It was far too small to belong to Connor, so it was… for me?  
“I asked Ellen to make it for you. I hope the sizing is adequate… if not, she can easily make adjustments.” Connor took the robes and presented them to me. “After all of the training you have received and what you have accomplished in the last few days, you have proven yourself worthy of these. Welcome to the Brotherhood, Marie.”  
“I… thank you! I am honoured!” I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out to hug him. He felt a bit uneasy at first, but then returned the embrace.

***

We spent the evening at the Inn to have a well-earned break and check on the woman we found in Boston. I wore my new outfit with pride, which made it possible to carry several weapons at a time – two pistols, knives, smoke bombs, a bow, and a sword – with ease; it was incredible.  
We found her serving drinks to patrons, so it looked like she found herself a job.  
“Oh, hello,” she greeted us as we entered. “Oliver and Corrine offered me a job as a waitress! I’m so glad I found you two, else I’d still be living on the streets. Thank you… um, I never got your names…”  
“Connor, and this is my friend Marie.” Connor replied.  
“Thank you again. I’m Caroline.” She smiled. “Now, what would you like to drink?”  
We spent the evening playing cards and enjoying ale, chatting with Caroline whenever she wasn’t busy. Well, it was mostly her and Connor chatting; she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him, and I noticed Connor blushing quite a lot. How cute.  
I eventually got bored, so when I saw Ellen come in, I went to talk with her and thank her for making my new outfit. She said it looked great on me, and that I could rely on her whenever I needed any tailoring done. She really reminded me of my mother, with her generous and benevolent nature.  
Once we decided to call it a night, Caroline caressed Connor’s arm as he stood from his chair and said, “I hope to see you again soon,” with an appealing smile.  
“Looks like someone’s got an admirer,” I teased on our walk back to the manor.  
“What are you talking about?” Connor asked confusedly.  
“You didn’t notice? Caroline was talking to you whenever she had the chance.”  
“I… didn’t realise that meant anything,”  
“Well, if you like her back, you should show her. Give her a gift, perhaps.”  
“What sort of gift?”  
“Find out what she likes, and go from there.”  
“Hmm… I’ll consider it.”


	4. Chapter 4

A few days had passed until we were all set to depart for New Orleans. We were to travel there aboard the Aquila, Connor and Robert Faulkner’s ship. After some initial hostility from Faulkner, claiming that it is “bad luck” to have a woman on board, I convinced him that his luck would be far worse if he didn’t let me on the ship, and he shut up about it since then.  
The ship was to depart the following day, and the only thing I had left to do was the most difficult: telling my father. I admit that I should have told him more in advance, but I procrastinated because I knew he would disapprove, saying that I’ve risked my life too much as it is. I knew I had to tell him, though, because it’d be far worse if I left without saying anything.  
I plucked up the courage to tell him the evening before we were to depart, while we both ate dinner. Not that I was eating much of it; I was far too nervous. I usually wolf down the whole lot due to the amount of exercise I do, so I think he noticed something was wrong.  
“Father…” I began, after going through what to say in my head several times, but I was still dreading his reaction.  
“Yes, Marie?”  
I took a deep breath and said it. “Connor and I are setting off ship to New Orleans tomorrow morning. I know it’s out of the blue, but we have an important mission.”  
He sighed and was silent for a moment. “Nothing I say is going to stop you, is it? Just like your mother…”  
“Father, I’ll be careful. I won’t be alone, either.”  
“I know,” He looked at me solemnly. “I don’t doubt that you are more than capable of looking after yourself… I just can’t bear the thought of losing you too.”  
“You won’t, I promise,” I assured him. “I’ll write you as soon as I get the chance.”  
When it was time for me to leave the next morning, Father watched as I readied my horse, and when I was set to go he said, “Be careful, Marie. I love you.”  
“I love you too, Father.” I replied, giving him one last smile before setting off down the road.

***  
Connor and I were carrying the last load of supplies down to the docks when we heard a shout from behind.  
“Wait, one more thing!” It was Caroline, who had offered to watch over the Manor and the Homestead while we were away. She rushed towards us, her brunette curls flowing behind her and her eyes fixated on Connor, and kissed him passionately. Connor initially froze, unsure of what to do with himself, until he got the idea and gently kissed her back.  
“Come back safe,” she told him once she finally pulled away, then turned to me. “Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”  
“I will,” I assured her.  
She ran back up the hill, her cheeks flushed.  
“If you were looking for a sign that Caroline likes you,” I remarked, smirking at Connor, “that was it.”  
He looked down awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin.  
Once everything was ready and the Aquila set sail, I walked over to the front of the ship, observing the sea that stretched endlessly across the horizon while feeling excitement for the adventures to come. It felt strange to leave the only place I’d ever known, but there was nothing I desired more.

***  
Faulkner seemed to warm up to me a bit during the first week of the journey, asking me how I came to be an Assassin and looking impressed when Connor told him about my skills. I was even allowed to take shifts as a lookout on the crow’s nest, which was a nice change from having nothing to do other than sitting in my cabin reading books and wandering around on deck throughout the first few days. The weather had been good for sailing so far, and the crew respected me, so all was well.  
Some days later, however, things took a bad turn. I was on my way to my cabin for the night after spending the evening playing cards and drinking with Connor and the crew, when I was grabbed from behind without warning. Instinctively, I flipped the attacker onto his back in one swift movement. He shot back up, a knife in his hand, and lunged towards me. I managed to dodge the blade and grab his wrist, shoving him back with my shoulder so that he was disarmed, yet he continued to attack, relentless but clumsy. I countered his flying fist with a stab into his chest, and within seconds he was on the floor, lifeless.  
Before I had the chance to comprehend what had just happened, I heard footsteps storming out of a cabin a few doors away.  
“How many times do I have to tell you boys to keep it down?! Some people are trying to sl-“  
Faulkner stopped in his tracks when he saw me, all bloody and standing over a corpse. “Oh…”  
“He came out of nowhere and tried to kill me,” I explained, still trying to catch my breath.  
“My God…” He muttered while examining the body. “Remind me to not get on your bad side. We better tell the Captain.”  
Connor’s eyes widened at the sight of me all blood-spattered as we entered his room. “What happened? Are you hurt?” He asked with apprehension, rushing over to us from the desk.  
“I’m fine,” I said reassuringly, and then went on to explain what had happened.  
“The attacker was one of our new crew members, though I never noticed anything odd about him.” Faulkner added.  
“An agent of the Templars, no doubt, which means they know what happened back at the Frontier…” Connor said thoughtfully. “We must be more vigilant from now on.”  
Everything went quiet again for several days, although there was tension in the air as we awaited the Templars’ next move. It was likely that they were following us, and it would only be a matter of time before they caught up with us.  
They chose a good time to strike, I’ll give them that.  
The attack began during the night, when there was just a skeleton crew on deck. I was asleep until I awoke with a start to the sound of shattering wood and the ship jerking violently from the impact.  
“Everyone, get up!” I heard a shout outside of my room. “We’re under attack!”  
I pulled on my clothes and grabbed my weapons before hurrying up to the deck with the others. I saw the source of the blast: a schooner quickly gaining on us, followed by two others. Connor had also just woken up, rushing out of the captain’s cabin while still buttoning up his shirt.  
“Ready the cannons! Man the swivels!” He called to the crew as he took the wheel.  
I rushed up the steps to join him. “What do you need me to do?”  
“Just be ready to fight,”  
Around us crew members loaded gunpowder into the cannons and aimed a swivel towards the nearest schooner. At Connor’s command, a flash of amber blasted from the swivel and soared above the black void of the ocean into the enemy ship, creating a lethal collision that caused it to rise up in flames and begin to sink.  
“Sink, you bastards!” The man controlling the swivel jeered.  
One of the other ships fired at the Aquila, but not with the ordinary round shot. Instead, it was a chain-shot that flew high into the night sky before hurtling towards us from above.  
“Take cover!” Connor yelled.  
We ducked and covered our heads to protect ourselves as best we could from the cannon and debris raining upon us.  
“They’re trying to board us!” Said Faulkner.  
Connor managed to line up the Aquila against one of the remaining schooners, giving the perfect angle for our cannon to take it down. Now there was only one enemy ship remaining.  
Another chain-shot hit the masts, shredding the sails apart. Now we were well and truly defenceless against the last ship.  
“Shit, what do we do now?!” I looked to Connor in alarm.  
He unsheathed his tomahawk. “We fight,” he replied, and then addressed the crew. “To arms, men! Let’s make them regret boarding our ship!”  
They cheered as they grabbed muskets and swords, inspired by Connor’s confidence.  
The schooner quickly approached and latched onto the starboard side of the Aquila. Our men fired their muskets, killing some of the attackers while they attempted to board our ship, and then came the clashing of swords between our crew and the enemy. Connor charged down to the main deck to join the fight, and I followed suit, leaping from the upper deck and landing on an attacker, impaling his chest with my smallsword. I jumped to the side to avoid the blade of another, and hastily countered with a deadly strike at his throat. Then I took the opportunity to take out several of them from behind while they were preoccupied by the rest of our crew, before a heavily-built man drew near, wearing a tricorne hat, giving the impression that he was the captain, and wielding a hefty sword.  
He swung his blade at me with great force, but his strikes were predictable and I was much faster. I blocked his attack with my sword and slashed at his sword arm using the hidden blade attached to my right arm. Now that his sword arm was weakened, I thought I could easily finish him off, but then I was taken by surprise with a gunshot from behind that penetrated my right upper arm. I groaned as I felt the hot rush of pain take over, which gave the large man sufficient time to recover, and he lunged forward with his sword again. Using strategies from my training, I managed to suppress the intense pain enough to keep fighting. I dodged his blade with the sword in my good arm, and with a roar of effort kicked him towards the edge of the Aquila, where he tripped backwards over the handrail, tumbling overboard with a huge splash as he hit the water.  
“Marie!” Connor called, running over to me. I looked around to see that all the attackers were dead. Now that I was no longer in danger the pain flared back, making me hunch over and clutch the wound. He placed my good arm over his shoulder. “We need to get you to the doctor.”  
“I don’t need help walking,” I insisted. “Go and help those with worse injuries.”  
“Are you sure?”  
“Yes,” I slowly made my way below deck, hiding the pain as best I could so that Connor wouldn’t worry about me.  
I found the doctor, an old man with spectacles and a greying beard, preparing his equipment in the infirmary for the expected casualties from the recent battle.  
He indicated a bed for me to sit on and examined the wound that continued to ooze blood, tinting my sleeve surrounding it deep red.  
“There’s an exit wound. At least that means the bullet’s not still in there.” The doctor pointed out as he applied a tourniquet. “You’re lucky it didn’t hit the bone either.”  
Once it was bandaged up, I was told to return to my cabin and rest despite my protests while he went to treat the rest of the injured.  
I drifted in and out of sleep until dawn broke, when I decided to get up and find out what was going on. I had no idea what we were going to do about the broken mast and the sails that had been ripped apart, but I assured myself that this was unlikely to have been the first time the Aquila had taken damage out at sea. I wandered towards the main deck to find Connor, passing the infirmary on the way. A shudder rushed through me at the sight of sheets covering the bodies of the people that didn’t make it. I felt a surge of guilt, knowing that we were only attacked because the Templars were after me and Connor, and yet it was those men who lost their lives. Taking a deep breath, I continued up the stairs that lead to the main deck. The crew that weren’t hurt were already making repairs to the mast, using parts salvaged from the ship that attacked us as well as spare parts from the Aquila’s storage. Connor stood watching the men, turning to face me as I approached with a puzzled look.  
“You should be resting,” he said. His eyes shone golden brown in the dawn sun, but dark circles surrounded them from a lack of sleep.  
“I couldn’t sleep,”  
“How is your arm?” He asked, indicating my bandaged wound.  
“It still hurts, but nothing I can’t live with.” It throbbed throughout the night, although that wasn’t the only reason I struggled to sleep.  
“Just take it easy until it gets better,” He gave me a sympathetic nod, then turned to face the workers again. “We should be set to continue the journey by tomorrow.”  
“Some of them weren’t as lucky as me. I came out with a wound, but they didn’t come out at all…”  
“The doctor did all he could to help them, Marie. We did the best we could. Don’t blame yourself; blame the Templars.”  
“Easier said than done,” I sighed.  
“I know. It is an unfortunate but inevitable part of our war.”  
I knew that all too well since my mother fell victim to the Templars, though it didn’t make it any easier. I tried to assure myself that getting upset wouldn’t help anything, so I instead used those feelings to fuel my determination to stop them.  
I wouldn’t let their sacrifices be for nothing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for not updating for so long! I've been very busy with university and I procrastinate a lot, but I'm aiming to finish this story by September. Thanks for reading, and I hope you've enjoyed the story so far :)

Although it was now winter, the bayou of Louisiana felt warm, in great contrast to the freezing winters of Massachusetts. Connor and I took off in a rowing boat towards the swamps, while Faulkner took the Aquila to moor at the harbour of New Orleans, in search of Aveline’s hideout.  
“Any idea where this hideout is?” I asked Connor as I rowed.  
“Once we find the main road, we follow the voodoo masks,” he explained. “That will lead us to her.”  
“Wouldn’t that make it easy for enemies to find her?”  
“No, she made good work of convincing people that they are cursed, so they stay well away from them.”  
“Clever,” I remarked.  
We continued on foot once we found the main road, navigating through the overhead trees in order to slip past the guards patrolling it.  
“Over there,” Connor indicated a voodoo mask nailed to a nearby tree. We followed them through the wilderness until we arrived at a hut built around a giant tree that towered over the rest.  
There, sitting by a fireplace, was Aveline.  
“It’s good to see you again, Connor.” She stood and approached us with a welcoming smile, pulling down her hood to reveal long, beautiful locs tied back with a red ribbon. Her face had the scars of a battle-hardened woman, but to me they added to her splendour. “And this must be the newest member of the order?”  
“Yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Aveline. My name is Marie.” I replied as we shook hands.  
“Pleasure to meet you too, Marie,” she sat back down and gestured for us to do the same. “Now, let’s discuss the enemy. I tracked a large camp around five miles to the west of here, following convoys filled with slaves. It’s surrounded by a wall that is well guarded, making it difficult to get in without a disguise. From eavesdropping on conversations between guards patrolling the perimeter, I gathered that they are using slaves to search the area inside for some sort of artefact. I also heard that the man in charge is there too, overseeing the operation.”  
“That could be Dubois,” I suggested.  
“Yes, it’s likely,” she agreed, “but we can only be certain if we have someone on the inside. I’m willing to be that person.”  
“If you’re sure…” Connor said hesitantly. “Not that I doubt your abilities, but who knows how the slaves are treated there?”  
“I appreciate your concern, but trust me, I’ve had more than my share of dealing with slavers.” She smirked. “You must both remain hidden outside the camp until I get word to you.”  
“How will you do that?” I asked.  
She took a piece of paper from her pocket and unfolded it, revealing a roughly sketched map of the camp. “There is a small gap in the fence here,” she explained, pointing to the location on the map. “If one of you creates a distraction for the guards, the other can talk to me there.”  
“Sounds like a plan,” Connor said.  
“Excellent. We will set off first thing tomorrow.” Aveline concluded.

***

The flavescent sky shone in stark contrast to the dark grey of the trees in the early morning light as we travelled by canoe through the bayou. Aveline led the way, dressed in her slave persona, followed by Connor and I. Birds sang their dawn chorus and crickets chirped alongside odd sounds of wildlife I didn’t recognise, and it was strange to feel so much heat at this time of year.  
After travelling around four miles, we disembarked our canoes and continued on foot.  
“So was it Connor who taught you the ways of our Brotherhood, Marie?” Aveline asked as we walked briskly along an old track, keeping her voice down and staying alert as she did.  
“Not at first,” I replied quietly. “My mother, Élisabeth, trained me for less than a year before she died.”  
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she glanced at me sympathetically. “So your mother was French? I wondered why you have a French name yet your accent is not.”  
“That’s because I was born and raised in Massachusetts, as was my father.” I explained. Mother was born in Paris, and moved with her family to the Colonies at a young age. It was there that she discovered the Assassins and went on to join them, eventually meeting Father while on a mission in Boston.  
“She must be very proud of you,”  
I nodded appreciatively.  
“I met Marie in a chance encounter in the frontier surrounding Boston,” Connor said. “She already had magnificent skill with a bow, and showed true potential in other fighting styles. I was glad when she agreed to continue her training with me.”  
“I’m pleased that you joined us,” Aveline said.  
“As am I.” I agreed.  
A few minutes later, we left the track and took to the trees until the camp came into sight. Observing from behind a bush, we took into account the guards patrolling the spiked walls that stood five metres tall around the perimeter, along with two men standing by the main entrance.  
“A supply caravan enters the camp around the same time each day,” Aveline whispered beside me. “I’ll use that to get in, then meet me at the agreed location at nightfall.”  
“Understood.” Connor replied softly.  
After a short while, a caravan appeared around the corner.  
“Good luck.” I whispered to Aveline as the caravan passed.  
With a smile and a nod, she quickly made her way around the back of the caravan, staying low and out of sight, and entered unobtrusively.  
We watched as the caravan made its way through the gates into the camp before we left to set up camp a safe distance away.

***

“You talk to Aveline, and I’ll create a distraction.” Connor instructed once night came and we were preparing to make our way back to the camp.  
“All right,” I agreed, securing my bow and quiver over my shoulder and pulling my hood up.  
We retraced our steps to where we parted with Aveline earlier, treading lightly through the marshy wilderness where the nocturnal animals had come to life. Only a few guards now patrolled outside the walls with lanterns in hand.  
“Ready?” Connor asked quietly as we stood behind a tree a short distance from the gap in the fence.  
“Ready,” I affirmed.  
Connor skulked stealthily toward the guard that monitored the wall near the gap. I wasn’t sure what he was going to do to divert the guard’s attention, but it didn’t really matter. I had to focus on reaching Aveline undetected.  
Seconds later, the guard left his usual path up and down the wall’s perimeter, pursuing something concealed in the darkness. Whatever Connor did, it was working. I hurried to the wall, edged my way toward the gap, and cautiously peered inside.  
“There you are,” Aveline whispered. Even with the obscure light, I still noticed the dark circles around her eyes and the dirt specked on her clothes. “Listen, they’re using slaves to dig up the area. From what I’ve overheard, they’re looking for some sort of artefact they think is buried here.” She paused, carefully looking back both ways before continuing more quickly. “Dubois is here. He’s staying in the largest tent down the far end. I suggest you try to get in here the same way I did tomorrow, then you can take him down while I help the slaves escape and Connor causes a distraction.”  
Before I could reply, she vanished. Seconds later, I heard footsteps approaching from her side, so I retreated back into the trees before I could get noticed.  
The next thing I needed to do was find Connor. I returned to where I last saw him, but there was no sign of him or the guard. I looked around in confusion for a few moments until I heard a twig snapping behind a nearby tree. Wielding my blade, I silently stepped towards it, edging around the tree’s bark until I was within range, and pounced.  
“Connor,” I said with a sigh of relief, taking a step back and sheathing my blade.  
“Sorry, I didn’t realise it was you.” Connor lowered his blade as well. “Did you talk to Aveline?”  
“Yes. I’ll tell you everything on the way back to camp. Best not to linger around here.”  
“I agree. Let’s go.”

***

“Come and find me as soon as you are done,” Connor instructed as the caravan neared the following morning. Heavy rain poured from the ashen clouds overhead, forming ripples in the swamp’s waters. We were both already soaked after the brief journey from our camp and our boots caked with mud.  
“Will do,” I replied, waiting until the caravan had just passed us, then circling around and leaping in. I slid between the stacks of supply crates and crouched behind them, out of sight of the back entrance.  
Moments later, the vehicle stopped.  
“State your business,” a man ordered – presumably a guard – to the driver.  
“I’m delivering supplies,” the driver answered.  
“What supplies?”  
“Bread, milk, fruit, vegetables, water, cheese… yeah, I think that’s it.”  
“All right, proceed.” The man said gruffly.  
As soon as the caravan was parked, I quietly jumped out and made haste towards the cover of the bushes in the nearby corner. From there, I assessed my surroundings.  
At the centre of the camp was a huge excavation site where slaves worked surrounded by guards wielding whips. While I watched, one frail man dropped to his knees, panting in exhaustion with sweat streaming down his face. A guard immediately marched over and struck him until he got up again, each harrowing crack of the whip echoing through the camp. I forced myself to resist the urge to stop it or else I’d blow the entire mission.  
I turned my attention to the far end of the camp where Dubois’s tent was situated. Grander than the guards’ tents, and far more so than the ragged tents the slaves resided in, it stood adjacent to a row of prison cells probably reserved for uncooperative slaves.  
Spotting Aveline hiding behind a slave tent, I quickly proceeded towards her, using the bushes and other tents for concealment.  
“Dubois just went into his tent,” Aveline whispered as I approached.  
A guard’s shout of alarm came from near the entrance. Connor’s signal.  
“I will meet you back at the hideout as soon as possible,” I said, staring intently at the Templar slaver’s tent.  
She nodded, then went to help the slaves escape.  
Now was my chance.  
As I was about to slip through the tent’s entrance, however, something caught my eye. An old-looking woman was sat on the filthy floor in the closest cell, whose silver-streaked chestnut hair hung carelessly over her face.  
She looked up, revealing her face, and the realisation hit me like a brick.  
“Mother…” I murmured. I ran to the cell door, my heart pounding through me.  
She looked as if she had aged twenty years since I last saw her months ago, and her once toned muscles had wasted away, leaving little but flesh and bone. I attempted to pick the lock, but then I felt something sharp and thin slide into my neck. Everything became a blur, pain shooting through my side as I hit the ground, before everything faded to black.


	6. Chapter 6

I came to on the cold hard ground of a prison cell. Once the disorienting blur of my vision cleared, I realised Mother was in the cell next to me.  
“Marie, I’m so sorry…” her voice was hoarse and faint. She had managed to move as close to me as the bars between us allowed.  
“It’s not your fault,” I said, trying to sit up but struggling. Whatever was in that thing that stabbed my neck was still wearing off. Instead, I dragged myself towards the bars that Mother leaned against. She wearily outstretched an emaciated arm, so I took her hand in mine wilfully. “I’m just so glad I found you. I- I thought you were dead.”  
“Death would have been a mercy compared to what I’ve been through,”  
“Oh Mother, I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine what hell you’ve been through. What happened?”  
“My group was ambushed. We fought off as many as we could, but there were too many. I was the only one who was spared.” She looked away, wincing at the memory.  
“Why? What did they want with you?”  
“Information. I’ve been starved, tortured, but I never broke.”  
“They’ll pay for this,” I scowled at Dubois’s tent. “Were you going after Dubois?”  
“Yes… He escaped me once before, and I was determined to succeed this time. But I failed.” She gave me a searching look. “How do you know his name? How did you even get here?”  
“Connor helped me complete my training,” I explained. “We investigated cases of former slaves disappearing in Massachusetts and found it was the Templars who were kidnapping them. It eventually led us here, to Dubois.”  
“I’m so glad you found Connor. He’s a good man.” She managed a slight smile. “I’m so proud of you.”  
The crunch of footsteps interrupted us. It was a man dressed like an army general, with the Templar insignia etched onto the breast of his jacket, followed by two guards. He appeared to be in his forties or fifties, his hair greying and his face sagged with age.  
“That’s Dubois,” Mother whispered, confirming my assumption.  
“Having a heart-to-heart with your ‘daughter’, are we?” Dubois sneered as he approached Mother’s cell door. I had no idea why he put so much emphasis on ‘daughter’, though my blood was boiling with too much hatred to give it much thought at the time.  
“So, it has to be me that tells her then, Élisabeth?” He sighed, then turned to me. “She’s not your real mother.” He said bluntly.  
I looked over to Mother questioningly. “What is he talking about?”  
She said nothing, but it was written all over her face.  
“Your real mother’s name was Isabelle,” Dubois answered. “She died soon after you were born.”  
“What? How do you know this?”  
“Because I am your father.”   
No, he must be lying, I thought to myself. He’s just trying to mess with my head. “I don’t believe you.”  
“It’s true,” Mother’s voice cracked as she spoke. “I’m sorry, Marie. I should have told you, but I didn’t know how you’d react.”  
I was taken aback by what I was hearing. It felt unreal.  
“I just don’t understand why you would keep this from me… It’s not like I would just run off to the Templars because of it.”  
“No, I didn’t think that. You were happy with us as your family. I didn’t want to ruin that.”  
“I… think I understand. I was happy, and that would have complicated things. But how did I end up with you?”  
“Your real father abandoned you,” she explained. I looked over to Dubois, who tried to remained stoic, but in his eyes shone a hint of regret. “I found you while on a mission to assassinate him. You were just a baby, and he just left you while he escaped.”  
“Allow me to explain…” Dubois interrupted. “I was ignorant and selfish back then. I wanted a son, and I wrongly blamed you for Isabelle’s death. Leaving you there when the Assassins came was the worst decision of my life… there has never been a moment where I haven’t regretted it since.” He stepped closer to the bars of my cell, his mask of indifference fading away. “You have grown into a thoughtful, strong woman. I have heard of your achievements, and it makes me proud of you, even if you work for the enemy.”  
Inimically, I stood and stepped closer to the cell door, the only thing separating me from Dubois. “Be nice to me all you want,” I said, “but it doesn’t change the fact that you kidnap people and make them your slaves.”  
He sighed deeply and rubbed at his temples in frustration. “Look, I wouldn’t have to if you Assassins hadn’t killed most of us. Your people have left us no other choice. The artefact must be found for the greater good.”  
“Yes, the greater good of the Templars.” I retorted.  
“So that we can bring order and stability to a world of chaos!” His voice grew louder. “Sometimes sacrifices must be made to achieve a world of peace and purpose!”  
I shook my head. “That is no excuse.”  
He opened his mouth to speak but decided against it, instead taking breath to gather himself. “Then you leave me no choice,” he finally said with disappointment. “You will stay here for now; at least until the artefact is found. I wish it could have been otherwise.”  
He marched back to his quarters, closely followed by his guards.  
I sat back down on the hard ground, sighing in frustration. Of course, all my weapons and tools had been confiscated, leaving me with few options of escape.  
Waiting for Aveline or Connor to find me was one option, but for all I knew they could have been captured as well, or worse.  
I perished the thought. This was not the time to panic.  
After a few moments of deliberation, I decided best option I had was faking illness and hoping a guard would take the bait.  
“I have a plan,” I told Mother. “I need you to attract a guard’s attention by telling him that I’m dying. That will hopefully lure him in, then I’ll beat him up and take his key.”  
“You’re going to escape?” she asked in surprise.  
“With you, of course. I need to get you to a doctor as soon as possible.”  
“But what about Dubois and the artefact?”  
“You are my priority. I can come back for them.”  
“No, Marie,” she insisted. “By the time you return he’ll likely have found the artefact and escaped. You must kill Dubois, get the artefact, and ensure that it never falls into Templar hands.”  
I wavered for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right. I’ll wait for them to find the artefact, then I’ll kill him and take it.”  
“You… you’re not bothered by what he said?”  
“Of course not. Even if we don’t share the same blood, you’re still the one who raised me and watched over me all these years. You’re still my mother.”  
She smiled, relieved.

***  
“Marie,” Mother whispered, gently nudging me awake. Night had fallen and the camp was shrouded in darkness, save for the lanterns carried by a group of guards headed to Dubois’s tent. Squinting in the bad light, I noticed the one in the middle carrying a lavishly decorated chest that I could have sworn was making a faint shimmering sound.  
“Could that be…” I murmured, transfixed by the strange noise.  
“…the artefact in that chest?” Mother finished. “Yes, it’s likely. Time to go.”  
We waited until the guards came back out of Dubois’s tent and dispersed around the camp, leaving a lone guard in view, then Mother called to him.  
“Help, somebody! She’s dying!” she cried, sounding very convincing.  
The guard hurried over, probably because Dubois would have him executed if he allowed me to die.  
I lay motionless on the floor of my cell, listening.  
“What happened?” The guard asked suspiciously.  
“I don’t know! She just collapsed!”  
I heard the door open, waited for his footsteps to draw near enough, then grabbed both his ankles and pulled. He slammed to the ground on his back. Within seconds I was on top of him, and with one precise punch I knocked him out cold. Once I’d searched his pockets and found the key, I took his smallsword, locked him in my cell, and went to release Mother from hers.  
“I’ll find you somewhere to hide,” I told her as I helped her up. It was disturbing how light she felt.  
Staying alert for any more guards, I carried her over to the secluded area where I met Aveline several hours earlier, though it seemed like a lifetime ago.  
“I’ll come back for you as soon as I can,” I assured her.  
“Be careful, Marie. I love you.”  
“I love you too.”  
We hugged briefly, until she whispered, “Go on, now. You can do this.”  
I nodded gratefully, and made my way to finish what I started.  
A guard blocked the entrance to Dubois’s tent, so I circled around, using the bushes as cover, then approached out of sight along the left side of the tent until I was close enough for the guard to hear my whistle. As expected, he came over to investigate. The moment he appeared around the corner, I pierced his heart with my sword, using my free hand to silence his scream.  
I marched into the tent, ready to face the monster that was my father.  
He was sat at a desk at the far side of the tent where my weapons lay. “Marie,” he said casually, without looking over.  
Following my silence, he stood and turned to face me. “So you escaped. Nicely done.” He smiled wryly. “Shame about my guards, though.”  
“Enough,” I said, raising my stolen sword. “Let’s finish this.”  
“So you want to fight your old man, then? Very well...” he took my sword and arm brace with its hidden blade attached from the desk and tossed them over. “I want to see you at your best.”  
He waited as I cautiously fastened my hidden blade and readied my smallsword.  
“Ready?” he asked.  
I nodded.  
We circled each other for a moment, until Dubois lunged in, striking hard with his longsword. I blocked it with my sword in my left hand and countered with a slash from the blade in the other, though he managed to deflect it with his free arm.  
“Impressive, but predictable.” he remarked as we broke apart.  
I ignored him, focusing only on his movements. He attacked again, and this time I ducked and sidestepped to the left, responding with a slash of my sword intended for his neck. He flinched to evade it, so it instead carved into his shoulder.  
Feeling more confident now that I weakened his sword arm, I followed up with a firm strike. It met his blade nonetheless, and quickly followed through with a punch that collided with my jaw before I could block it.  
The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth and I felt its warmth trickle down to my chin. It would hurt later, but right then I was too immersed in the fight to feel anything.  
He didn’t pause before striking again, probably thinking that I was distracted by his punch. Bearing bloodied teeth, I caught his sword in mine and shoved my knee into his crotch. He hunched over, and I used that brief window of vulnerability to leap back and launch a brutal kick into his chest. The desk behind him broke in two as he crashed into it, and the whole tent shook violently from the impact.  
I rushed after him, ready to perform a finishing blow, but a part of my mind, the irrational, subjective part, caused me to hesitate. For a moment, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill my own father.  
That hesitation almost cost me my life.  
I moved just in time to stop his sword from puncturing into any vital organs, though not fast enough for me to get away unscathed. The strike slashed through my left side, just above the hip. I stumbled back, clutching at the wound instinctively.  
Dubois got back to his feet as I recovered.  
“It’s not too late to change your mind, you know.” He said, breathing hard and grimacing when he tried to stand up straight.  
I spat out blood. “That’s not going to happen.”  
“I don’t want to kill you, but you’re leaving me no choice…”  
I charged at him. He dodged my sword weakly and attempted a low kick, which I avoided with ease as a result of his increasing fatigue. I dove to the side, plunging my hidden blade into his back. He jerked forward and dropped to his knees, his longsword clattering across the ground as I kicked it from his hand. Before he had the chance to get back up, my sword impaled his chest.  
He fell flat on the ground as I pulled the sword out.  
“I’m disappointed it had to end this way…” he managed to whisper as I rolled him onto his back, “but I’m proud of you… even if you work for the enemy.”  
He took one last shaky breath, then went still.  
“Rest in peace.” I said impassively, turning away.  
Sharp pain suddenly shot through my side where I’d been wounded now that the rush of energy faded, making me wince and hunch over. The strike had sheared through my clothing and left a nasty gash in my skin, causing a stain of dark red to form on my jacket that gradually grew bigger. Luckily, I found a box of medical supplies on the floor by the shattered desk. I dug through it to find some bandages and alcohol and shoved them in my pockets for later. Treating my wound would have to wait; I needed to find the artefact and get Mother out of there before more guards arrived.  
Once I’d gathered my weapons, I scanned the room for the artefact. Next to the canopy bed, that was as large as you could get for a tent, was the chest from earlier. I heard the strange shimmering sound again, growing louder as I got closer. Bright, unnatural light greeted me when I opened the chest, emitted by a spherical object inside. It was smooth and surprisingly light as I took it in my hands, and my mind was abruptly filled with a strong sense of strength and power. I resisted it, and quickly put it in a pouch on my belt. This artefact wasn’t something to mess around with, Connor had warned.  
All that was left to do was find Mother and get the hell out of here. With my sword at the ready, I stepped outside.  
“Surrender the artefact or she dies!”  
I froze. Just ahead of me, Mother was being held by a guard holding a gun to her head. Two others stood either side of them, their muskets aimed at me.  
With no other choice, I took the artefact from the pouch and held it in my hand, looking at it then back at them in hesitation.  
The artefact lit up, glowing white light, and the shimmering sound returned, becoming louder and louder until it blasted a screeching noise. Bolts of energy flew from it to the terrified guards, and it seemed to take control over them.  
I watched, fearful yet fascinated, as the guards with the muskets shot each other and the other let go of Mother, moving the pistol to his head and pulling the trigger.  
Wide eyed, I gaped at the artefact, which immediately fell silent and stopped glowing. I looked over to Mother, who had managed to sit up but was clearly struggling.   
“Mother! Are you hurt?” I asked as I rushed over to her.  
“No, not by that…” She replied, staring at the dead guards in bewilderment. “What did you do?!”  
“I don’t know…” Now I understood Connor’s warning. Ignoring the temptation to examine it further, I quickly shoved it back into the pouch. I would only use it again if absolutely necessary.  
I helped her onto her feet. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

***  
The first hint of dawn shone through the trees as I spotted Connor in the distance, a short while after we left the camp.  
“Connor!” I called to him.  
“Marie!” he called back, running over. “Who… Élisabeth?”  
“Connor,” Mother said, her voice barely a whisper. She was so weak that I had to carry her out of the camp. “It’s so good to see you after all this time.”  
“Likewise, my old friend.” Connor smiled. “Marie, let me take her.”  
I complied, then he looked worried when he saw my wound. “That looks bad. I have some medical supplies in my pack...”  
“No, it’s all right,” I insisted. “I’ve got my own; just give me a minute.”  
I removed my jacket and sat against a tree while I got out the alcohol and bandages I’d salvaged earlier, placing them to the side as I peeled away my bloodstained shirt from the wound. It appeared deep enough to need stitches, but for the time being the most important thing was to clean it to prevent infection and stop the bleeding. I poured some alcohol over it, wincing at the sting, then covered it with the bandages, fastening them by tying them around my waist.  
“Now, can you explain to me what happened?” Connor asked once I’d finished.  
“Well…” I deliberated for a moment as we walked, figuring out the best way of explaining the bizarre events that had taken place. “It turns out that Mother was captured by the Templars and had been held prisoner in that camp. They… tortured and starved her, hoping to get information, but of course she never gave in. When I found her, Dubois took the opportunity to catch me off guard, and the next thing I knew I was locked in the cell next to Mother’s. If finding her wasn’t strange enough, I also discovered that Dubois is… was… my real father.”  
“What?” Connor’s eyes widened in disbelief.  
“It’s true. Don’t worry, I dealt with him and I retrieved the artefact.” I gestured to the pouch on my belt that held it.  
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Connor said solemnly, “but I’m glad you didn’t make the same mistake that I did with my father.”  
Connor told me about Haytham back during my training. How he foolishly thought that he could unite the Assassins and Templars, and how that ended in disaster. With his father as Grandmaster, he thought that he could convince him to change the principles of the Templars, but that proved to be impossible.  
“What will we do with the artefact?” I asked.  
“Leave it to me,” Connor replied. “For now, let’s focus on getting back to the hideout.”  
We eventually reached our canoes where we had left them on the bank a two days before. Aveline’s was nowhere to be seen, which was a good sign, while the others had become filled with rainwater as a result of yesterday’s downpour.   
Once I’d emptied them, we made our way through the swamps, Mother and I in one canoe and Connor in the other, back to the hideout.  
We reached the hideout around an hour later. Mother’s condition appeared to have deteriorated since I first encountered her, her breaths increasingly laboured and her fever worsening. To my relief, Aveline was there, having returned a short while ago. We barely had time to speak, however, as we immediately rushed Mother into one of the beds in the hut.  
Connor and I stayed with her while Aveline left to find a doctor. “A doctor will be here soon,” I told Mother reassuringly. “You’re going to be okay.” Though I had my own doubts even as I said it.  
The following days were agony. Despite various treatments by the doctor, Mother didn’t seem to improve, but at least she wasn’t getting any worse. I was torn between hope and despair, afraid of having my hopes up in case the worst happened while I kept reminding myself that she’s a fighter. It would have been far worse without Aveline and Connor, however; having them by my side throughout was no small comfort.  
Finally, after four gruelling days, she took her last breath and slipped away.  
“I’m sorry,” the doctor told me. “I did all I could. I made it as painless as possible.”  
I nodded, tears streaming down my face, before quickly turning and leaving the room. I didn’t want anyone to witness my breakdown.  
I’m not sure how much time I spent sitting at the very top of the hideout, overlooking the trees of the bayou. Once the tears stopped, I was overcome by numbness, unable to do anything but watch the gentle swishing of the trees in the breeze and feel the wind brush over my skin.  
I barely noticed as Connor approached and sat beside me. He gingerly placed his arm around my shoulders and I rested my head on his chest, his warmth welcoming. We sat together in silence until the sun set, though the reticence wasn’t awkward. No words were required. All that I needed was Connor to be there.


End file.
